


The Age of Reason

by ohdeariemegoodness



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: M/M, he's welcome, sesshomaru kindly refrains from murdering human inuyasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdeariemegoodness/pseuds/ohdeariemegoodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sesshomaru thinks, sometimes, that he will keep walking long after the earth has fallen still and quiet.  He will live until he is killed, and Sesshomaru will allow no demon to defeat him."</p>
<p>Sesshomaru ponders eternity, refers to himself in the third person, and experiences several crippling moments of fondness for Rin.  Inuyasha continues to be a stain on the family name, and there's not much to be done about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Age of Reason

“He was free, free in every way, free to behave like a fool or a machine, free to accept, free to refuse, free to equivocate; to marry, to give up the game, to drag this death weight about with him for years to come. He could do what he liked, no one had the right to advise him, there would be for him no Good or Evil unless he thought them into being.”

—Jean-Paul Sartre, _The Age of Reason_

* * *

There is something to be said, perhaps, for humans, which is that even the worst of them—the most obnoxious, the most vile—will live and die in what is essentially a matter of moments, without any intervention on Sesshomaru's part. If he simply ignores them, the problem solves itself. It's something he appreciates only occasionally, but it is in moments like this, when he is interrupted from his meditation by the undignified squawking of his youkai servants, that he realizes the effort required to end such annoyances. If he does not either address their concerns or dispose of them completely, he risks their everlasting presence.

The noise does not stop, and Sesshomaru sighs. He opens his eyes.

“This Sesshomaru requires silence.”

The squawking stops, and Sesshomaru inhales slowly, holding the breath in for a moment before letting it out. Imbeciles, the lot of them.

“State your concerns.”

One of them gulps. “Um. Silently, my lord?”

Sesshomaru only just refrains from rolling his eyes. How can he possibly be expected to put up with this level of stupidity for any period of time? And they wonder why he can't bear to be here for more than a night or two. Jaken is obnoxious enough without any help.

He realizes that the servants are waiting on a response.

“No. Make your request. This Sesshomaru tires of your presence.”

There's three of them, none of whom Sesshomaru recognizes. He rarely interacts with the household staff, even when home. With good reason. His patience is stretched thin already, and servants are difficult to replace once Sesshomaru starts killing them.

After a whispered conference than Sesshomaru can hear but chooses to ignore, the middle one is pushed forward. He bows low.

“Great and powerful Lord Sesshomaru,” he intones. “There is a human at the gates.”

Sesshomaru waits for clarification, but none comes. Deep breaths. In, out.

“And you have not killed it yet?”

The spokesman squeaks. “It says it knows you! Milord!”

Sesshomaru's face does not change, but agitation is rolling off of him in waves. He stands up and the servants cower. It’s difficult to believe that these pathetic, unworthy creatures would consider themselves youkai.

Ignoring them, Sesshomaru makes his way to the gate. He will dispose of this nuisance, and then he is leaving. He's had enough.

“Jaken!” He snaps.

Jaken appears out of nowhere, bowing and scraping and rambling on about glory and honor and filthy ningen.

“It is time we left here. You will prepare Ah-Un.”

Jaken doesn't move fast enough, so Sesshomaru kicks him. He scampers off, still rambling on. Sesshomaru thinks sometimes that he should have killed him decades ago, but somehow the kappa persists. Sesshomaru's mood blackens as he recognizes the scent of the intrusive human at his gate. It’s one of Inuyasha’s pet humans.

“You dare disturb this Sesshomaru,” Sesshomaru intones. He’s distracted, briefly, by the stench of the curse on the human’s hand, and the acrid smell of the beads that control it. The smell of fear lingers in the air.

The human bows deeply. “I am Miroku, Lord Sesshomaru. I come to you on behalf of Inuyasha.”

Sesshomaru growls, frustration building low in his chest. The fear smell spikes sharply, tempered by desperation.

“Inuyasha has been cursed, Lord Sesshomaru. We believe that the curse can only be assuaged by kin’s blood; the resonance led me here to you.”

Sesshomaru does not have time for this. Impatience aches in his bones, and he feels the tireless draw of dimly-lit forests and open plains deep inside his breast. “This Sesshomaru will spill no blood for a hanyou. Begone.”

Jaken chooses that moment to come stumbling out with Ah-Un, Rin running behind him. She’s woven flowers into her hair. Sesshomaru allows himself a moment of softness for his young ward before turning back to the gate. It’s time that they set off; at Rin’s request, they’ve spent a day at the palace so she could explore the gardens, but Sesshomaru has been still long enough. His restlessness knows no bounds.

Sesshomaru thinks, sometimes, that he will keep walking long after the earth has fallen still and quiet, that he will walk and walk until no part of the earth remains untravelled. He will live until he is killed, and Sesshomaru will allow no demon to defeat him. Eternity is his only option.

They walk until Sesshomaru notices the blackened sky and realizes that night has fallen long since. When he turns, he sees Rin riding on Ah-Un, eyelids fluttering open and closed. She’s fighting off sleep, and Sesshomaru wonders, sometimes, what it would mean to be bound to such a need. Sesshomaru can sleep, of course, and has, when injured or during the exhausting growth of his childhood—but its call does not haunt him with the rising of every moon.

Sesshomaru stops, and the rest of his party follows suit. Rin climbs off of Ah-Un and shuffles in his direction. She rubs at her eyes and smiles up at him. “Will you stay with us tonight, Lord Sesshomaru?”

Sesshomaru considers this, for a moment. He feels no particular desire to be still, but no direction calls to him. In the end, he sits down, sitting cross-legged with his back resting against a tree. Rin takes this as an invitation to lie down in his lap, and Sesshomaru allows this, tuning out Jaken’s protests in the background. He thinks of Rin’s early fascination with his hair, her attempts to weave flowers into it, to run her fingers through its length. After her breathing settles into the deep rhythm of sleep, he finds himself stroking her dark, coarse hair—just once, and his hand returns to stillness.

The smell of passing youkai draws his attention, briefly, but the scent changes sharply; they’ve sensed his more powerful youki and switched directions. A wise choice.

In her sleep, Rin’s eyes scrunch up, and her fists tighten. Sesshomaru places his hand on her arm and watches her face relax, her body returning to its former looseness. He is reminded, in a very different way, of Inuyasha, when they fight—the way his skin tenses under Sesshomaru’s fingers, and the way his breathing changes, becomes heavy and hard, when Sesshomaru draws close.

A look upward reveals the new moon, dark and black with a sliver of brightness fighting to peek through. Sesshomaru remembers, abruptly, that this is the night of Inuyasha’s change, his monthly descent into even greater weakness. The monk’s plea for assistance takes on new meaning as Sesshomaru realizes that in this weakened state, Inuyasha may not be able to weather the effects of whatever curse plagues him.

It is Sesshomaru who decides if Inuyasha will live or if he will die; he is Sesshomaru’s kill, and no other’s. Gently, Sesshomaru removes Rin from his lap. He stands up.

“Jaken,” he commands. The smaller demon shoots up, squawking something unintelligible. Sesshomaru cuts him off. “You will stay here and watch Rin.”

Inuyasha’s humans will have taken him to their village. His orb form is not his preferred method of travel, as it blinds his nose and blurs out anything between destination and starting point, but it is fast, and Sesshomaru arrives at the village quickly. The hanyou’s vulnerable human scent hits him first, layered over with the thick, acerbic stench of a blood curse. He smells for signs of confrontation; it occurred the day before, near the village. It stinks of surprise, and he can smell that the attacking youkai survived, but fled. The youkai’s scent is foreign but distinct, easily traced. After Sesshomaru has attended to this, Inuyasha will have to avenge his injuries, or the curse will persist.

He approaches the hut that Inuyasha is being held in. Humans mill around uncertainly, inside and out. One of them screams, and the air stinks of fear and uncertainty. Inuyasha’s underdressed miko runs out of the hut, arrow notched and aimed towards him.

“Stay away,” she cries.

Her face is set in fierce determination, fearful but willing to fight. He thinks of Rin, who knows no fear in his presence. Sesshomaru should be feared, of course—but it is a relief to leave its stench behind, and to have moments to himself.

The monk from earlier comes out behind her. “No, Kagome! We can’t break the curse without him. If he doesn’t help, Inuyasha may not make it through the night!”

The two humans argue, and Sesshomaru, growing impatient, presses past them, ignoring their protests. As he ducks through the doorway, he suppresses a shudder at the uncomfortable, foreign feeling of walls around him. Humans love to be boxed up in their own filth. It is something that Sesshomaru, whose heart sometimes longs for the infinite, unknowable stretch of the underworld, will never understand.

Inuyasha is laid out on the floor of the hut, pale and flushed, strange looking with his dark hair. He’s just in his hakama, and his chest is bleeding shallowly from thin scratch marks; Sesshomaru sees that his fingers are wrapped in cloth, presumably to prevent him from injuring himself further. The stench of the curse is almost overwhelming, and Sesshomaru fights the urge to wrinkle his nose.

“Hanyou.”

Inuyasha’s eyes open blearily, dulled by fever and his hanyou curse. That this weak human should claim kinship with Sesshomaru is almost unfathomable, and Sesshomaru is keenly aware of his ability to end Inuyasha’s life, so quickly and so easily. But to do so now would bring Sesshomaru no joy. He has no desire to defeat defenseless, worthless humans; no power is to be gained or proven from that.

As a child, Sesshomaru had dreamed of growing strong enough to defeat his father. Instead, he is stuck with Inuyasha, too weak to even be an enemy. Breathing in deeply, Sesshomaru takes a moment to allow the familiar, deep-set stirrings of resentment to fester before scooping the hanyou up into his arm.

“The hanyou will return,” he announces, and he takes off through the window, leaving the humans to squawk helplessly among themselves.

In the forest, Sesshomaru finds an appropriate spot, a large, flat rock on the bank of a clear creek. Methodically, he strips Inuyasha of his remaining garment, wishing vaguely that Jaken was here to perform the chore for him, and inspects him for the signs of the curse. Red markings are creeping underneath Inuyasha’s tanned skin, and Sesshomaru watches curiously as they curl around his legs. He dips Inuyasha into the water, letting the creek soothe his fever and the hanyou’s troubled mutterings.

The monk spoke truly when he said that the curse would be assuaged by Sesshomaru’s blood. Sesshomaru can feel the pull himself, the call of Inuyasha’s body to his own, reaching desperately for the aid of its only kin. Still, Sesshomaru is reluctant to spill his own blood for a hanyou, and he turns Inuyasha around, looking for clues, perhaps, to a more palatable method.

He lays Inuyasha back out on the bank to dry and watches his breath grow slower and more labored. A dark red mark is forming in the center of his chest. Sesshomaru does not have to save the hanyou. But he feels keenly that Inuyasha’s life must end at his hand, and the idea of some unknown youkai slaying a member of Inu no Taisho’s bloodline does not rest well with him. Sesshomaru bares his arm, draws his wrist up to his mouth. The slice of his fangs through his own skin feels strange, and the taste of his own blood is even stranger, fills Sesshomaru with a hunger he has not known before. He changes his mind about allowing Inuyasha to hunt down the youkai who landed the curse. Sesshomaru will kill him himself.

Following instinct, Sesshomaru smears his blood anywhere the markings show on Inuyasha’s skin, saving the dark mark on his chest for last. The blood sizzles but does not seem to burn, and Sesshomaru watches with mild interest as Inuyasha settles, his breath coming evenly, and the flush of his body fading as the fever leaves him. The curse is not truly broken, simply held back by Sesshomaru’s strength. He feels at his wrist as it heals, his flesh knitting back together smoothly. In the morning, Sesshomaru will hunt this other demon down and kill him, but he will stay with Inuyasha until his vulnerable human form is no longer.

Sesshomaru feels an urge to bathe, to wash his own blood from his skin, so he undresses, lying his clothing out on the rock. He steps into the cold, clear water, watches it swirl around his legs as he walks further in. The creek comes up to his waist at its deepest point, and he trails his fingers in it, appreciating the soft lap of the water against his skin, the way it drags his hair out into silky strands.

Inuyasha makes a noise, and Sesshomaru looks over to see him curling up onto his side like a child, black hair spilling over his shoulders. He looks cold, and Sesshomaru thinks of Rin, her small, human form, her weakness against the demands of her body, her tiny, rough hands. He thinks of Rin’s encounter with Ongokuki, and her refusal to leave with the other humans. She’d asked him, later, if he’d remember her when she died, and Sesshomaru feels something sharp and heavy in his chest whenever he thinks of it.

He goes through the motions of cleaning himself, then returns to the bank to dry off, spreading out on the rock a few paces away from Inuyasha. Mokomoko-sama curls under his head, and Sesshomaru spends the last few hours before dawn staring upwards, thinking of the lifespan of stars, of the great vastness of space.

Dawn begins to break, the first tendrils of light creeping across the sky, and Sesshomaru sits up, curious to see Inuyasha’s transformation. He watches the muscles rippling under Inuyasha’s skin, so much darker than Sesshomaru’s own, and the slow fade of his hair from black to white. His ears rise up slowly, his teeth lengthen, and his scent changes, becomes stronger and more pungent, the familiar earthy spice of Inuyasha’s youki overwhelming the lingering stench of the curse.

Curiosity sated, Sesshomaru moves to get dressed as Inuyasha struggles to find his bearings.

“What’s going on?” Inuyasha demands. “Why am I here? Where are my clothes?”

Sesshomaru ignores him, but Inuyasha attacks, pouncing on Sesshomaru before he can finish his rather complicated dressing routine. Annoyed, Sesshomaru cuffs him on the head and wrestles him face-down on the ground. Inuyasha is stronger than many demons in his hanyou form, but Sesshomaru is much stronger, even with only one arm, and he allows himself a moment of satisfaction as Inuyasha wriggles and curses in his grasp.

Inuyasha manages to get his face out of the dirt and facing Sesshomaru. Amused, Sesshomaru tolerates his questioning.

“Why am I all bloody, you bastard? What’d you do?”

Sesshomaru is not going to answer that, of course, so he presses Inuyasha down more fully, intending to rub his nose in the dirt. Before he can, though, Inuyasha’s scent changes rather abruptly, the familiar trifecta of anger, resentment, and fear joined by a fourth, more heady scent.

Sesshomaru almost doesn’t recognize it on Inuyasha, but it’s something he’s sensed from many demons. The realization almost manages to shock laughter out of him, and he breathes out sharply in amusement, but he keeps his face smooth and unreadable as he forces Inuyasha over onto his back. In this position, Inuyasha’s lust is clear. His pupils are blown, his cheeks tinged pink, his pulse fluttering too fast under Sesshomaru’s gaze. His hardness is already apparent and Sesshomaru suppresses another laugh at how typical that is. Inuyasha is so quick to emotion, never any strategy or forethought, just raw, flailing power.

It’s a lingering effect of the curse, perhaps, but he feels his own body responding regardless. Sesshomaru does not often partake in the pleasures of the flesh; his wanderlust far exceeds his propensity for unnecessary motion, much less mindless rutting. Still, Sesshomaru is not the type to deny himself.

Inuyasha, catching onto Sesshomaru’s reaction, laughs loudly. “So your dick does work, even with that stick up your ass! Never woulda guessed it.”

Sesshomaru cocks an eyebrow at him, and Inuyasha, grinning, rocks his hips upwards in challenge.

“You gonna do something about that? You even know how?”

Sesshomaru very pointedly does not roll his eyes. “Very well, hanyou.”

He rolls his own hips into Inuyasha’s, and Inuyasha makes a very high-pitched breathy noise. Feeling gratified, Sesshomaru leans in, presses his teeth gently against Inuyasha’s neck just to feel his body tense and still beneath him. Sesshomaru breaths out a low chuckle before licking up his neck and biting firmly into his shoulder, almost hard enough to break the skin. Inuyasha’s hip buck wildly upwards, and Sesshomaru meets the motion with his own.

Sesshomaru sets a steady, slow pace, enjoying Inuyasha’s whines of frustration, and lets pleasure wash over him until his body strains for more as well. Inuyasha’s breathing has gone heavy and hard, and sweat is pooling at his temples, on his chest. It’s a strange comparison to Sesshomaru’s own skin, eternally cool and dry. Only his nose is ever wet; his body has no need for sweat, his temperature regulated perfectly by his youki. Inuyasha’s nose drags along Sesshomaru’s cheek, and Sesshomaru notes with some surprise that it is as wet as his own.

He picks up the pace, a little, and when Inuyasha’s breath is nothing but pants, his eyes squinched shut and his face flushed, Sesshomaru frees himself from his hakama. The first touch of skin on skin sends Inuyasha over the edge, and Sesshomaru follows shortly after, angling it so that his release lands entirely on Inuyasha’s belly and chest, leaving his own clothes and skin clean.

Satisfied, Sesshomaru takes a moment to bask in the soft haze that follows release, but the feeling passes quickly, and Sesshomaru stands up and gets dressed, back to business. He turns to Inuyasha, still spread out on the rock, watching with his eyes half-lidded.

“Go back to your humans,” Sesshomaru commands.

“Feh,” Inuyasha mumbles. He opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, but closes it again.

“What?” Sesshomaru changes his mind once more about killing the youkai who cursed Inuyasha. Inuyasha’s strength has returned, and he will be able to break the curse on his own. Sesshomaru feels an urge to return to his ward, to sit in the sun, perhaps, and listen to her happy, endless chatter.

Inuyasha’s eyes cut away. “Thanks, I guess,” he says, and although he doesn’t specify what for, Sesshomaru assumes he has figured out the reason for Sesshomaru’s presence.

Sesshomaru considers responding, but in the end, he simply leaves.

* * *

When he gets back to the spot where he left his group, he finds Ah-Un resting in the shade with flower wreaths around both necks. Rin comes running towards him, and Sesshomaru finds a boulder to sit down and lean against.

Jaken comes out from behind Ah-Un. “Lord Sesshomaru! You’ve returned!”

Sesshomaru lets Rin’s chatter wash over him, and after a few minutes she lets him be, singing to herself and swinging her arms around as she hunts for flowers. The ones she picks end up in a little pile next to Sesshomaru. Eventually, she comes to sit beside him and starts tying the flowers into chains.

He watches her weave, her fingers almost ridiculously tiny. The frailty of humans is something that Sesshomaru neither understands nor has patience for. They live half-lives, unable to smell anything not directly in front of them, tied to the constant demands of their bodies. They’re sensitive even to changes in the weather, could be cut down by a sudden frost like a delicate fruit. And yet—

“Rin,” he murmurs.

She smiles up at him. “Yes, Lord Sesshomaru?”

But Sesshomaru, for once, has uttered a word without meaning—he isn’t sure what he meant to say, or why he said her name at all.

Rin, always so receptive to his moods, seems to understand his silence. She sets the flower wreath down and reaches towards him.

“Lord Sesshomaru, may I braid your hair? Just for now?”

Sesshomaru nods, almost imperceptibly. He wonders if her human eyes can even see the motion.

But Rin, of course, knows his weakness for her, and she tangles her fingers into his hair, running her stubby nails all the way up to his scalp and back down again. She entertains herself with twisting it into a braid, and Sesshomaru shuffles around a little to give her better access. Her hands are warm, and so small, little pinpricks of heat against his back.

The sun is shining overhead, and Sesshomaru feels peaceful and sated, content in a way he so rarely is. He closes his eyes, tilting his face upward, and he thinks that in this moment—in this moment, he could sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the strangely reflective humping scene, because lord knows where that came from, lol. Hopefully you enjoyed this despite all the rambling--thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought!! 
> 
> Also, if this story seems oddly familiar to you: this was originally posted to ff.net, now here with some minor revisions! I am in the process of moving some of my stuff over here, since it's so much easier to read on AO3.


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